| OCR Text |
Show Twisters . • . 8 With Stacey being older than Arthur and me by two years, she's used to getting her own way. She wasn't about to give up. "Please?" she kept on. "I've never been on your new bike." "Look, Eustacia Marie," Arthur sneered, using her revolting given name, "Dan can give you a lift if he's dumb enough to, but I'm not riding Ronnie Vae anywhere!" So we wheeled our bikes up to the road with Stacey walking between us. I was longing to have her hanging onto my waist while I demonstrated my biceps and quadraceps and my great cycling skills, but I lost out. When Stacey's loyalty to her underfed sister got the best of her, she ran off, yelling for Ronnie to wait up. Clouds were .building fast as we started pedaling for home. The way the wind was whipping those trees around at the state park should have clued me that something big was on the way, but I wasn't worried then. I figured we were in for more rain. Maybe a hailstorm, too, if the greenish look of the sky meant anything. Suddenly I realized I was hungry as a bear out of hibernation. "Want to eat at my house?" I called to Arthur over my shoulder. "What are you having?" "How should I know?" Our voices trailed off in the wind, so we didn't talk much after that. We had a long way to go and the pumping took all our breath. Thirty or so minutes later we were cutting across the huge cement parking area that surrounds the Fonner Park Racetrack. That's where we always sprint on our bikes, but the wind was so strong it made speed impossible. Finally, as I was turning the corner onto Sand Crane Drive, a comic |
